


The Intruder

by Severina



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Community: spook_me, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Power tingles along his skin, scorching his nerve endings as he scans the area for the intruder, already determining that if the trespasser has harmed one curl on Belle's head or put a single mark on her delicate skin, there will be no quarter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's spook_me community for the prompt "witch"
> 
> * * *

There's an intruder in the castle.

Rumplestiltskin freezes and tilts his head, sends his senses out across his borders. All of the wards and guards are intact, not a shimmer to indicate anything amiss. Yet the tingle in his bones never lies. Something has slipped past his defenses, something small and crafty. Something sly. 

He scowls at the array of ingredients before him on the scarred work table. It's an inconsequential potion for an insignificant frontland lord, but a delicate one nonetheless. Each element must be added at precisely the right moment or the entire thing will fall apart, and it is only through this potion that he will earn his price – the fragile music box. Which will in turn lead him to the key and from there to the wand…

Circles within circles and all leading to the ultimate prize. 

He has no time for intruders, and his impatience makes him irritable. He won't dilly-dally with this one; no clever words or jocular swordplay. He'll simply turn the pest into a frog and be done with it, back to his work before the manticore's incisor has time to crystallize.

Decision made, he reaches across the table to set the beaker down and narrows his focus to the Dark Castle itself. Finds the source of the intrusion in the lower levels. The kitchen.

_Belle._

The sudden worried clenching of his heart can easily be twisted to magic, and the beaker drops unheeded from his senseless fingers. He materializes in the kitchen before the frothing liquid has even finished pooling on the floor. Power tingles along his skin, scorching his nerve endings as he scans the area for the intruder, already determining that if the trespasser has harmed one curl on Belle's head or put a single mark on her delicate skin, there will be no quarter. 

But all he sees is his little caretaker crouched on the floor, and she's got a… she's touching a…

"What," he says scornfully, "is that?"

Belle jerks, nearly stumbling backward onto her bottom. "I do wish you'd stop doing that," she says when she glances up at him, then wrinkles her nose. "And surely you've seen a cat before."

"I've seen a cat. Of course I know it's a cat," Rumplestiltskin answers irritably. "What is it doing _here_?"

Belle turns her back on him – a fact that no longer astonishes him, though he does often wonder if she is aware of quite how astounding she actually is – and resumes petting the sleek black creature. Rumplestiltskin, who has had the pleasure of Belle's touch along his arm on several occasions, allows himself a brief moment of jealousy. The cat, for its part, looks decidedly unimpressed. He always knew that cats were idiotic creatures. 

"I was fetching herbs for the stew and I guess it just… wandered in," Belle finally answers him. She gives the cat another lingering sweep of her hand, then scratches behind its ear and looks up at him imploringly. "It looks awfully skinny."

The tone reminds him of his Bae and of a mangy dog and a cold winter when they barely had enough to feed themselves. "No," he says.

"I'm sure it would be an excellent mouser."

"There are no mice in the Dark Castle," he says smugly. "My magic sees to that.'

"But Rumple—"

Her eyes are big and blue, long lashes sweeping her cheeks as she looks up at him. Perhaps a single feline wouldn't be so bad. 

No. Rumplestiltskin shakes his head, sure that she must be working some witchcraft of her own to even get him to consider such a thing. He stalks away, the better to think without getting lost in her eyes, before twirling back toward her. "No cat," he says imperiously. 

"But—"

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm allowing you to feed the fish in the pond," Rumplestiltskin says. He is nothing if not magnanimous. "Their venom is much more effective when they're hungry, you know."

He watches her face blanch, the sudden nervous swallow. 

"The fish are… poisonous?"

He can't help giggling at that. "Not so anxious to lean over and toss them your scraps now, are you dearie?"

She considers it a moment, then straightens her spine. "They still deserve to be fed," she says, "but a little warning would have been nice."

"It _is_ the Dark Castle, Belle," he says. "Not exactly the home of frolicking unicorns. Or malnourished felines." He flourishes a hand. "Send it outside."

She shivers at the gust of cold air and glances over her shoulder when the kitchen door flies open behind her, turns back to him and lifts an eyebrow.

"You know, the door is five feet away," she says. "You could have just walked there."

He's not sure what it says about him that the girl's impertinence barely registers. He waves a finger at her nose. "No pets in the castle, dearie."

Belle sighs and gets to her feet, giving the cat a lingering pet before she rises. She merely smiles when the animal raises its hackles and swipes out at her with its claws, but then Rumplestiltskin figures she must be used to creatures hissing at her ministrations by now. Then her brow creases, and she turns her attention back to him. 

"Do you smell something?" she asks.

Rumplestiltskin lifts his head, sniffs at the air experimentally before his shoulders droop. "That, my dear," he says resignedly, "would be two days' work squandered and seeping into the floorboards."

* * *

"There is a hair," Rumplestiltskin announces several hours later, "in my teacup." He carefully dips one taloned finger into his steaming chamomile to fish out the offending item, waves it delicately in his caretaker's face.

Belle looks up quickly from her stew, bites briefly at her lip before lifting her chin. "I'm sorry," she answers. "I'll have to be sure to bound my hair better with my ribbons before I make your tea."

He does have to admire the girl's bravery.

"This," he says, letting his voice drip with every ounce of scorn he possesses, "is a cat hair."

"Oh," Belle says softly. "Is it?"

Rumplestiltskin lets the thick black hair drop to the floor, leans back in his chair. "I thought you agreed that there were to be no pets in the castle."

"Actually," Belle says primly, setting down her spoon, "you made a rather indecorous announcement to that effect. I did _not_ agree. Words matter, Rumple."

"I do not _deal_ in my own home." 

The answer comes out harsher than he intended, and he does dislike seeing Belle flinch away from him. But the fear leeches quickly from her eyes, replaced by coolness as she retakes her spoon. "Of course," she says stiffly. "I'll see to it as soon as possible."

When he merely stares at her, she huffs out a breath. "Do you want me to put her outside now?" she asks testily. She shoves away from the table. "Fine, I'll leave my dinner—"

And it's completely unfair of her to have that hurt sad look in her eyes when it is his home and his castle and his rules, but Rumplestiltskin still waves her back into her seat. "No, no," he says, "later is sufficient. Eat your dinner, dearie. Can't have my caretaker fainting from hunger when she's trying to _clean_ her bookshelves, can I?"

He's heartened to see the blush rise in her cheeks, and when she lifts her spoon and begins talking about the latest book she's been 'cleaning' Rumplestiltskin considers the matter settled.

* * *

It is long past midnight when he blinks, looks down at the golden thread pooling over onto the floor. He's spun longer than expected, and it's only as he slows the wheel that he realizes he didn't sense Belle when she went to her chamber.

When he sends his senses through the castle he realizes also that "as soon as possible" and "later" are vague, imprecise terms that the Dark One should certainly know better than to employ.

If she had retired to her bedchamber he would not be able to confirm his suspicions until the morning, for that room belongs to Belle and Belle alone and he would not darken it. But this evening his steps take him unerringly to the library, to the girl curled into the corner of the divan with her stockinged feet tucked beneath her, an open book on her chest and her eyes closed in peaceful slumber. And to the cat, hunched in upon itself and staring at him balefully from atop a neat stack of books on the table. 

Rumplestiltskin taps his nails against his chin, considers the matter. On the one hand, he simply can't have Belle disobeying his orders so blatantly. Vague wording or no, his desires on the matter were perfectly clear. 

On the other hand, telling Belle that she may keep the feline will make her eyes light up and make her clap her hands in delight. She may even throw her arms around his neck again, the way she did when he let that reckless thief… when the bow misfired during his quest to recapture Robin Hood. And on this, if the truth must be told, his desire for her warm touch may override the need for his commands to be obeyed.

He is, after all, just a foolish old monster.

A flick of his wrist releases the binding spell that keeps vermin from the castle. It's nothing but wasteful magic, anyway, and though the price is small it is always best to maintain balance. Best to let nature take care of the problem… and the cat's talons look like they'll be exceedingly able to handle a few stray mice.

And if Rumplestiltskin has a bounce to his step as he makes his way to his chambers, there is no one there to witness it but one scrawny feline.

* ~ * ~ *

Regina waits until Rumplestiltskin has left the library before she unfurls her tail and stretches, easing out the kinks in this unfamiliar form. Transforming into a cat to steal into Rumplestiltskin's lair and do a little unobtrusive spying seemed like a good idea at the time, but apparently the imp didn't teach her all there was to know about changing back. She's going to have some harsh words for him when the spell finally wears off.

And she has fleas.

It's going to be a long week.


End file.
